Perhaps all that wine last night at Hannah's had been a bit of a bad move, Johann thought to himself as a set of bottles on a trolley clattered past where he was perched waiting on the third floor. A headache that had been underlying without being too much of a problem, throbbed at the back of his head, and his face screwed up slightly in response.

He'd almost completely forgotten the appointment with Hollingbury if it hadn't been for a rather pointed note from Gabrielle reminding him not to miss it. The Ministry hadn't taken too kindly to his stint at the hospital last year, especially as he'd been taken ill late at night in their building, and there were things that patient confidentiality seemed to bypass - one being the magical government. Then that undersecretary had the cheek to put the word 'unreliable' on his personal file. One word had caused Johann more irritation than a lot of recent events, save for the dog's head in a box for steaks perhaps.

He heard his name, and hopped to his feet, making his way along the corridor to the indicated room, and pushed open the door with trepidation. He was dressed for work, but his coat was slung over his arm, given he'd been sat waiting for a while, early for the appointment, as if it would ensure it would be over with sooner.

"Morning," Johann greeted, turning back slightly to shut the door behind him, "Glad to be making my way here on two feet, and conscious this time." He grinned boyishly at the healer.

"Even if my boss had to remind me…" He admitted, with a lighthearted tone, "its been a busy month!" Taking a seat, hoping to Merlin that this little trip would be as painless as possible, given the whole floor was already making him remember being imprisoned for a week, and almost hitting Healer Torret as her animagus in his confusion. Not fond memories, for anyone.

"Do you read the Quibbler?" He asked, more quietly, his anxiety causing the rambling which Hannah had pointed out was rather rampant of late, "We got a mention."

Yep, he was pretty sure Hollingbury could probably already tell he'd not quite been keeping clean the past month or so, even before drawing blood or examining him - healers had that uncanny ability to see through things. Johann swallowed, shutting up.

Arcturus had not been surprised - much - when he'd come across the note on the appointment with Johann in his schedule. Even if he was required by the hospital to keep an eye on such patients, he was also secretly glad - he did care, and he wanted to know how the man was getting on.

He was surprised, though, when Johann turned up. Arcturus hadn't actually expected him to. Considering their last encounter (not including the New Year Gala), he had assumed Johann would either deliberately or accidentally forget to come. He raised his eyebrows in response to Johann's greeting. "Morning, Mr Storm."

"Glad to be making my way here on two feet, and conscious this time." His grin, oh his grin. Arcturus kept his eyebrows raised. "Even if my boss had to remind me. It's been a busy month!"

"Do you read the Quibbler? We got a mention."

"As it turns out, no, I don't read the Quibbler and I don't care much for it," Arcturus answered softly. "I don't usually read anything that's not medicine-related these days, mostly because I don't have the time to." He was usually annoyed when someone mentioned being busy to the point of not keeping to schedule; what did they think he spent his days doing? If it didn't hit them, the amount of paperwork that was perpetually on his desk would give them more than a big helping of hint.

But he didn't want to be nasty today, or any other day, even if he was having some residual stress from the week. He quietly interlocked his fingers together and smiled. "Certainly seems you're doing better of late, Mr Storm, although I still note a shadow of dark under your eyes. Though maybe I'm just being mutual at this point." Lydia had told him of impending rings around his own eyes earlier that week.

"But I'm not going to jump to conclusions without the proper evidence." He got to his feet. "So if you don't mind, I'll just take a small sample of blood from you for quick testing. It won't hurt much, as long as you don't move. Just follow me."

Like every healer's office there was a curtained partition in the back where a healer could make a quick check-up of a patient on a bed. Arcturus motioned towards it, drawing the curtain back and rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. He'd been reading about Muggle procedures on drawing blood and he wished he had that sort of equipment - doing it with magic just didn't feel medically sound to him.

Hollingbury was a sensible man, he didn't read the Quibbler, or Witch Weeky, Johann assumed by that. Back last year he'd not really appreciated the man's appearance for more than his analysis over the hair and what he might read from his choices of how he wore his uniform. Today, in winter light, he was seeing him properly, and decided he could have described the man far better to his old friend and recently recruited St Mungo's apothecary than just mentioning the rather distinctive hair. Hollingbury was knowledgeable, and relatively fair of face. (In that symmetry and a lack of significant wrinkles were a fairly analytical analysis of beauty.)

"Probably for the best." The stringy, curly-haired Ministry worker agreed with the green-robed healer, "Its not my most productive reading matter, but I have to keep abreast of the news in ... many forms." Hollingbury was already keenly taking in Johann's appearance, the tired look, pale skin - not nearly as bad as last November, but not quite as healthy as mid December, either. He hadn't gone out of his way to hide anything, what with forgetting about the appointment altogether (well, that was a lie, he had remembered, he just didn't want to remember) and then still debating up until the last minute that morning on leaving the flat, whether he should turn up.

"... I'll just take a small sample of blood from you for quick testing. It won't hurt much, as long as you don't move. Just follow me."

Well, if sleeping potion showed up in blood even after a day or so without it, there wasn't much he could do other than bolt for the door (and potentially get reprimanded at the Ministry), or run for the hills (and not return). There were worse things to be found out for, and it wasn't as if they'd be surprised.

He'd only taken that one last dose of the rather potent blue stuff he'd stolen on the night of the 5th to the 6th - when he'd been at Hannah's. Since then it had been back to overdosing himself on the weaker Diagon Alley apothecary's blend, and alcohol.

A little less than sober last night when he'd got home - celebrating Hannah's promotion with more glee than he might usually have, because they both needed some good news - Johann couldn't quite remember if he'd necked any potion to finish the job and send him to oblivion. Old habits died hard. He'd certainly slept quite soundly, and it had taken Moxie licking his face to rouse him properly.

Leaving his coat on the back of the chair by Hollingbury's desk, he also discarded his suit jacket and sloped across the room in the direction indicated. The more he thought about it, the more he suspected in his inebriated haze before bed he might have decided he wouldn't come to St Mungo's, and taken some. Sometimes he wasn't the most intelligent being...

"Just leave me with some for later, right?" Johann joked nervously, his eyes darting around cautiously as he took in the scene behind the curtain. He was far too used to being the observer, back home when he'd been employed when helpful in the hospital to translate between healer and patient when language didn't meet in the middle. Being the patient was still quite awkward.

He perched on the edge of the bed, eyes still busy, and therefore momentarily distracted before taking direction on whether Hollingbury wanted an arm to blood suck or perhaps a major artery. Unbuttoning the cuff and rolling up his own shirt sleeve on his left arm, he added more seriously,
"So, what exactly can you tell from testing my blood? If I'm honest, you're the first healer who's asked for it..."

It won't hurt much as long as you don't move, Hollingbury had said. Johann was feeling more apprehensive now, especially as he couldn't be certain whether the last potion was the night before last or less than twenty-four hours previous. His anxiety resorted to poor distraction attempts.

"And the Quibbler just implied you'd treated me with love potion, not sure where they make that stuff up..."

The healer watched him perch on the edge and smiled to himself in an oddly tired way. "Just lie down, I prefer my patients relaxed. Besides, if you faint I'm not strong enough to catch or carry you." This was true. Arcturus hated physical sports; walking or running was more than enough and he had his fair share of it just by being in St Mungo's.

"So, what exactly can you tell from testing my blood? If I'm honest, you're the first healer who's asked for it..."

"Just some quick tests. I'm not at liberty to say." Now that was a lie, but it was necessary; Arcturus disliked having to deal with panicking patients even if it helped uncover their intentions a lot easier. It just made things messy and stressed both he and the patient. "At least I can tell if you haven't actually been poisoning yourself by accident." 

Arcturus opened one of the small cabinets on the wall and retrieved a few testing solutions, letting Johann ready himself - or make himself more nervous, he wasn't sure which, but it was up to Johann.

"And the Quibbler just implied you'd treated me with love potion, not sure where they make that stuff up..."

The healer gave a snort of amusement. "Love potion? Really?" He turned around. "The running joke on this floor is that I'm a hundred percent asexual. Maybe I am, maybe I'm not, but when I'm on the job romance is not my priority. I wouldn't put you down as the man to believe whimsical assumptions made by people with too much time on their hands.

"Now, just relax." Arcturus picked up the bowl that was going to contain the red liquid of life, specifically Johann's. "When I say 'don't move', I really mean don't move. And I need to focus; if you disrupt my concentration I cannot guarantee it won't hurt."

"Accident?" Johann asked, surprised, his mind was already calculating possible options from that, but then stopped, realising it was futile, and muttered, "No, its always been conscious."

He lay back, expression looking rather like an apprehensive child. It reminded him momentarily of a visit to the healer back home as a child - he'd caught the flu, and it had been the sort to knock him off his feet for a couple of weeks, which for wizard-kind was fairly unusual. His mother had taken him to a healer convinced he was either at death's door or had something exotic, being her only child she'd been perhaps needlessly worried. But either way, Johann, seven at the time, had refused to speak a word, all hundred and two of his usual inquisitive questions had been trapped in his throat for the duration of the visit. At almost thirty four, he had the opposite problem, but he still felt like he was an impostor to require a healer's attention in any professional form.

"The running joke on this floor is that I'm a hundred percent asexual. Maybe I am, maybe I'm not, but when I'm on the job romance is not my priority. I wouldn't put you down as the man to believe whimsical assumptions made by people with too much time on their hands." Johann's eyes snapped round to the healer who was amused at his mention of what the Quibbler had to say.

"Quite, and no, wouldn't I have ended up falling in love with you had it even hap-."

"Now, just relax."

Merlin!! Johann did practically the opposite. The only possible move to make him more anxious would have been for Hollingbury to turn around with a huge saw in his hand.

"When I say 'don't move', I really mean don't move. And I need to focus; if you disrupt my concentration I cannot guarantee it won't hurt."

Seven-year-old Johann emerged in fright and he nodded mutely, eyes wide, inclining away from the healer, suddenly petrified, and frozen.

Wimp.

Arcturus turned around, armed with bowl in one hand and wand in the other, and raised his eyebrows at Johann's change in posture and expression. He'd seen the fear in a hundred pairs of children's eyes; observing it in this man's face was both surreal and disturbing.

"Whoa. I'm not going to...do whatever you think I'm going to do." He set the implements down on a handy table and bent over Johann, the tips of his hair barely reaching the man's face. "Maybe I sound like I'm making a big deal out of it. If I am, I'm sorry." Please don't make me talk to you like a child, it would be so awkward.

He changed his mind a second later. Kids...now, kids Arcturus could deal with. He straightened up and leaned against the desk. "Hey, it's going to be okay," he said, in a gentle, almost endearing tone. "I'm not gonna hurt you. No one will. But if you don't calm down, I can't find out what's wrong with you. It'll be over in a few seconds, just lie back and close your eyes. I'll keep talking to you, how's that sound? Nothing's going to go wrong, and you'll be fine."

"I'm not gonna hurt you. No one will."

If only that were true! Johann's blue eyes stared like headlights back, what little colour was in his face was declining. The tone was a odd mixture of reassurance and also a creepy skin-crawling sensation had prickled.

"But if you don't calm down, I can't find out what's wrong with you. It'll be over in a few seconds, just lie back and close your eyes. I'll keep talking to you, how's that sound? Nothing's going to go wrong, and you'll be fine."

The standoff continued for a few more seconds before Johann found his voice somewhere in his shoes, and managed to form some words.

"There's..." The word squeaked out in a most unmanly tone and he swallowed, looking surprised at himself, his right hand going to his throat a moment. "There's nothing wrong with me though?"

His voice sounded like someone else's. Later he'd try really hard to forget that he felt no braver twenty five years later than he had that day where he'd lost his voice entirely before the healer, who unlike Hollingbury didn't have the time to reassure him before dismissing his mother's worries and prescribing stronger pepper potion that misted the windows of his bedroom up when he took it, due to the steam rising from his ears.

"I'm not the only person in the world who finds it hard to sleep, forgets to eat and is this pale, right?"

Healers could treat people who really were sick, like the man who had grown several times his size from the potion accident, and the woman who'd grown a second mouth who he'd seen rushed in as he was sat waiting that morning. He wasn't sick, he was fine - always had been! If they'd given him a prescription for the potion instead of putting his face up in there like a wanted poster he'd never have bothered them again. (Well, until they identified his body in the cold store, perhaps, and sent his corpse to Colin.)

Cringing, he shuffled his shoulders against the bed he was laid upon and closed his eyes tentatively, turning his head away so he didn't have to watch.

"How do you know it won't go wrong?" He suddenly asked, looking back at the healer, forgetting he had to stay still and quiet. "Has it ever gone wrong?!"

At this point in time, Arcturus would be trying to calm a child down with gentle patting. But...no. Resisting the temptation to touch any part of Johann apart from what was necessary, he inhaled deeply to keep himself calm.

"There's...There's nothing wrong with me though? I'm not the only person in the world who finds it hard to sleep, forgets to eat and is this pale, right?"

"...no. No, you're not the only one." Arcturus was strongly reminded of his first few days in the hospital; his situation had been exactly how Johann described it. "And I know how it feels. It's not good for you, and your body won't like you for it. All it'll do to you is make you ill."

"How do you know it won't go wrong? Has it ever gone wrong?!" The panic in his voice, for a moment, stirred some deep-seated sympathy within the healer.

"No, it hasn't." Arcturus looked back into Johann's eyes, trying to will some of the confidence he had into the man. "Because I know what I'm doing. Because I've been working here for over ten years. Because I want to save lives and see people smile because of it. And it won't go wrong."

He smiled. "Trust me." And maybe it was him speaking the truth about what he'd always wanted to do with his job, but he felt more confident. He only hoped Johann would, too.

That seemed to be a pretty good argument in Holllingbury's favour, since he weighed it up. Now he was feeling even more foolish for being uncomfortable for being here, for feeling like he was a fake patient, for, well, perhaps - making a fuss too. By now the delay had meant he felt a bit flustered for still being prone on the bed.

Johann winced and looked away again, closing his eyes, wishing for not the first time that morning he was anywhere else. Even being terrorised by his colleagues back at the Ministry, or even being shouted at by Gabrielle for missing the damned appointment. But he didn't put it past her to march him in here, or have Hannah bring him in at wandpoint, given she was still his future wife in the eyes of everyone else who had read the newspaper. With luck, Hollingbury hadn't read that edition, nor caught wind of it in the hospital gossip.

"I'm sorry, I'm just no good at being a patient. I feel like such a fraud." He muttered apologetically and took a deep breath, mustering some courage, but still refusing to watch.

"Ok, get it over with before I do something stupid like run for the door." He offered his left arm again, fist clenched, trembling ever so slightly.

The healer smiled in relief at finally breaking through to Johann, and wasted no time getting to the job. He made sure his hands were warm and very gently focused on the approximate spot in the crook of Johann's elbow with his wand before meticulously desensitising the area. Blood extraction was not particularly easy; it had taken Arcturus a while to do it without a hitch.

"You know, as a kid I didn't really like hospital visits either. Everyone had really cold hands, and that was one thing I really remembered." He kept his tone light, convivial. "I don't want you to remember this trip as all cold fingers either, believe me."

Blood coaxing was hard, too. Having to make a small puncture at exactly the right depth with a wand was difficult enough. Arcturus watched as the blood ran down the man's skin, stark red against pale white. With any luck, his careful attention to desensitising would have helped; Johann would feel nothing of the blood. Then he stemmed the blood flow with his wand - "Staima."[1] - and carefully siphoned off the remaining blood into the bowl.

He swiftly bandaged the man's elbow. It was all a bit clinical, but he hoped he'd made it less terrifying for Johann by talking to him. And there it was, he was actually done and Johann hadn't given him any trouble at all whatsoever. Eventually.

"You can sit up now." Arcturus covered the blood and put it out of sight. He had had patients fainting at the sight of it before. "Just do it slowly. If you need help, talk to me immediately, okay?" He waved his wand over his own hands, making sure to  clean them properly before he handled anything else. Muggles had latex gloves; why didn't St Mungo's have them too?

1.	Blood Flow Charm

Johann resolutely kept his eyes closed. The last time he'd slit his own hand open on a broken glass while living alone in Germany he'd had to kneel beside the bath to wash his hand before he'd clumsily managed to heal it enough to stop it. He was an awful person to heal another - his wand work always secondary to his research and accumulated knowledge. He knew perhaps more spells in theory than he actually knew to practise.

Hollingbury kept to his word, and Johann kept frozen to the spot, his right hand gripping the other side of the bed. He was only glad he had two working legs this visit and wasn't going to fall out of bed or vomit on them. Being back here brought all those fabulous memories back to the front of his mind. Minus the hallucinated voice suggesting he murder Hollingbury, of course. Good job he hadn't.

"You can sit up now. Just do it slowly. If you need help, talk to me immediately, okay?" The older man (not that you could tell at that moment) cracked open one eye suspiciously and took a glance in the direction the healer had been. Opening both eyes he looked round at his left arm where it had been patched, with surprise. Either Hollingbury was very good, or people made a deal out of how horrible that process really was.

"That it?" He asked, sounding more like himself again. He wriggled his left hand out of the clenched fist and raised his arm towards his right hand to see better, still on his back. "Sounded so much worse..." The relief was huge, and a smile broke out, up until he forgot the whole 'sitting up slowly' part, but thankfully only got as far as sitting on the edge and waiting for the room to go back to the right angle.

"Slowly, huh, yeah, got you." He confessed, faint colour returning to his face in shame. "I'll just sit here a moment, herm..." His grin had reduced to a meek smile, and the room stopped moving to his great relief.

"Not sure I'll be donating to the vampire blood bank in a hurry, but that wasn't as bad as I expected it could be." He admitted, inspecting the work again with mild curiosity, "Thanks, and you don't have cold hands, not today anyhow." He looked slightly awkward, still perched on the edge, unsure if that was all or whether he'd be prodded and poked some more. "Think I was running too much of a fever that night to care about cold fingers..." He muttered and looked away, biting his lip ever so slightly, pushing aside the thought.

"I  heard that my description's up on the wall of the apothecary downstairs? Don't worry, I haven't been to find that out, one of the apothecaries told me." He began to roll his shirt sleeve down again, shoulders sinking steadily as the anxiety about things began to leave him. "And no, I've not been chatting any more of them up, she's a very old friend."

"That it? Sounded so much worse."

"Yes, 'that it'," replied Arcturus in amusement. "And please, take your time." He went over to the sink and started working on separating the blood into different bowls, adding the potions he had taken from the cabinet one by one.

"Not sure I'll be donating to the vampire blood bank in a hurry, but that wasn't as bad as I expected it could be. Thanks, and you don't have cold hands, not today anyhow." Arcturus smiled, but kept working. Patients tended to keep their minds occupied as part of the consequences; Johann muttering under his breath behind him was nothing to worry about, unless he was plotting to do in the healer for his job.

"I  heard that my description's up on the wall of the apothecary downstairs? Don't worry, I haven't been to find that out, one of the apothecaries told me. And no, I've not been chatting any more of them up, she's a very old friend."

A mutual acquaintance described you to me earlier this week.[1] The voice whipped through his mind as if it had been yesterday. In fact, it had been a day ago. This didn't make things any better.

"Elixa?" Arcturus exclaimed in astonishment, turning to Johann, his professionalism gone within a split second. "You and her are old friends? Really?" He turned back to stare at the wall for a moment, the events from the thirteenth replaying in his head with great gusto, before shaking his head to clear them and going back to his work. "I don't...I'm not even going to comment on that. Small world, huh."

1.	Give Me An Ounce of Civet

"You've met then?" Johann asked, surprised but also delighted. He buttoned his shift cuff and slid to the floor again. His smart shoes restored to their former glory since the previous week's scuffle patted softly on the tiles.
"She had some piece of parchment about a house with her."

Letting that settle a moment, the healer busy with doing whatever he had to do with the blood (Johann was both mildly curious but repulsed given it was his blood) he returned to the chair and folded one leg over the other, looking rapidly brighter, even if the wine headache was still lingering underneath it all.

"We went to school together, and we're..." his voice drifted a moment as he tried to work it out, "Third cousins or something through my mother." Shrugging as if nothing of this mattered, and oblivious to the fact said cousin had been admiring Hollingbury over the counter only the other day, he looked towards Hollingbury's back.

"So how long have I got to live?" 

"Yes, we've met." The last word had some emphasis on it in the sense that Arcturus didn't want to talk about it, wasn't going to talk about it, and was not going to like talking about it. "And that's because I want to move out of my house, that's about it."

"We went to school together, and we're...third cousins or something through my mother."

Did you know your dear third cousin flirted with me like a Casanova out of Hades and cheerfully bent on world domination? was the thought that went through Arcturus' head, but he didn't say it even though he was itching to. But then he felt bad for thinking it, and thankfully, Johann asked, "So how long have I got to live?" before he said anything he would regret.

The results of the tests were becoming clear. One had traces of alcohol; Arcturus decided not to comment on that. The Poison Measurement Potion showed nothing, which was a good sign. The others were turning into warning colours, which wasn't.

Arcturus chewed on his lip for a moment. He disliked confrontation, which was odd for a healer who had to face patients all day every day. But he had to, for the man's sake.

"Well...it seems all well and fine," he began slowly. "But...there are traces of several solutions in your blood that I'm not quite sure about. I don't think it's anything dangerous, but they're showing certain colours corresponding with certain...substances." He turned around. "Have you been consuming anything drug-like in the past few days, Mr Storm? These are just quick tests, doing more comprehensive ones will take a few days so I can't tell what they really are, but I would like to know." His tone had gone back to being firm. He really just wanted to make sure.

And just in case Johann would try to run, his fingertips were partially in his sleeve. He could feel the shaft of his wand. If push came to shove, hopefully he wouldn't stun Johann too hard.

"Well...it seems all well and fine,"

A smile spread across the other man's face, ah good, they could put this all behind them and he could go back to being written up as mentally sound on his Ministry file again.

"But...there are traces of several solutions in your blood that I'm not quite sure about. I don't think it's anything dangerous, but they're showing certain colours corresponding with certain...substances."

The smile perished fairly quickly as Healer Hollingbury turned and looked at him. Substances? Eesh...

"Have you been consuming anything drug-like in the past few days, Mr Storm? These are just quick tests, doing more comprehensive ones will take a few days so I can't tell what they really are, but I would like to know."

Door, about three paces behind him, maybe two if he was quick enough. Likelihood that and this news would get back to Gabrielle if he did leave right now, almost certain. Options? Confess? Lie?

The smile had vanished.

"Tea, coffee... too much wine last night celebrating Healer Bombay's promotion.... was rather good wine though." No, clearly that wasn't what he was on about. Johann closed his mouth again frowned and gave a little sigh, getting up as if to leave, particularly as he seized his coat from the back of the chair he'd be sat on.

But instead he rooted through his pockets, one after the other in silence, lining up a small number of bottles on the edge of Hollingbury's desk. Three remedies of headache potion, two of sleeping potion - one entirely empty, the other almost there.

Sitting back down, Johann eyed the line of five bottles and let out a little sigh. This honesty stuff was hard work to stop him doing his usual 'run when in trouble' behaviour.
 
"And probably a few more at home...?" He added quietly, avoiding Hollingbury's eyes and guilty scratching the back of his head.